


Pinky Promise

by HisGlasses



Series: Moments of Ignoct - ficlet collection [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Dark, M/M, Prompt Fill, The End, no comfort, wor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisGlasses/pseuds/HisGlasses
Summary: “Goodspeed... and take care.”The words came out naturally, logically, hoplessly. There was no way out of this and Ignis knew. The canine messenger of the Oracle had told him so, long before the others knew, long before Noctis had known himself. Having actually come to that point was much more of a torment than he had ever envisioned.Ignis swallowed hard before he brought his hand to the chest and bowed before his King.





	Pinky Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [latt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latt/gifts).



> Prompt fill to get my dynamics in writing stuff up again. Prompted by [latt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latt/pseuds/latt).  
> Have some older Ignocts with the best of angst I could muster up.

The rain was pouring from the darkened sky as the four of them stood in front of the Citadel. As if it could wash away the foul stench and corruption from the earth, well knowing that it was only the Chosen King himself who owned these powers, carried this fate.  
It was nothing more than the faint excuse of heaven’s lament, fake tears the Gods would not care to shed.

When Noctis, the Prince who had finally become King, addressed them, Ignis listened closely. His ears had been sharpened over all those years in the dark, long before the Night had fallen and he wanted to take in every single word and every breath of his beloved, not knowing which sound of him might be the last he would ever hear.  
The ring of his name let him tremble inside.

“Walk tall, my friends”, Noctis’ low voice hummed through the curtain of droplets, the notion of defeat and resignation almost palpable.  
How Ignis prayed these wouldn’t be the last words he would ever hear Noctis speak. How he wished to see him now, now that they had come so far. Noctis had told them that he had made his peace but Ignis was reluctant to believe. Or was it really easier for the departing than for the people being left behind?

None of them said a word. Only the rain continued whispering false cries to the steadily perishing world.  
Ignis had to say something. Anything. There was so much he had still left unsaid, so much that might still have to come to pass. He didn’t want to part with Noctis, wanted to keep him from leaving to where he could not follow.  
Talk to him, Ignis, anything to keep him at your side, just a little longer. Anything to bring out another laugh, make him grip his shoulder again, just like when he had arrived at Hammerhead with Talcott. Anything to make him hold him once more and coax whispers out of him that no one else would ever hear, moments they would share in secret.  
Anything－

“Goodspeed... and take care.”  
The words came out naturally, logically, hoplessly. There was no way out of this and Ignis knew. The canine messenger of the Oracle had told him so, long before the others knew, long before Noctis had known himself. Having actually come to that point was much more of a torment than he had ever envisioned.  
Ignis swallowed hard before he brought his hand to the chest and bowed before his King.

Right. His King.

“Majesty”, Ignis added after a short pause. He had always looked forward to the moment he could finally address him like that.

Behind them the creaking and clanking announced another wave of daemons coming for them, coming for Noctis. Prompto and Gladio turned around wordlessly, ready to take them down and buy Noctis the time he needed.  
Gunshots were whipping through the rain, accompanied by the grating and screeching sound of metal against metal.

Ignis did not move. He had felt the pull of magic from his comrades summoning their weapons but he couldn’t make out Noctis leaving the site. There had been no footsteps echoing through the merciless rain, nothing.  
He drew in a shaky breath.

“Noct?”

There they were. Footsteps, clicking against the slippery stairs, lifting from the ground with a wet slap of water. But they were not leaving.  
They were coming closer.

And there it was, the hand on his shoulder, heavy but strong. He could even make out the gleaming heat of the ring, a blessing and a curse burning at the hand of his beloved, consuming his life. Ignis knew this sensation all too well and tried not to flinch at the thought.

“Iggy...”  
The proximity of Noctis’ voice almost startled him, if it wasn’t for the almost unnoticeable scratch of beard against his cheek.  
“I... I need you to come with me.”

Ignis’ heart beat faster.  
“Will Gladio and Prompto be alright?”

“They will have to be”, Noctis hummed. “Because I won’t if you’re not there.”

Something twisted in Ignis’ stomach. It was less than inappropriate to be glad about this circumstance, yet he was, if only for a brief glimpse. This also meant that he would be there when...

”Always at your side”, Ignis whispered, leaning in against Noctis’ cheek just slightly before the warmth radiating in his shoulder disappeared. They would walk up the stairs together.

None of them talked when the elevator was shooting up.  
Ignis could tell the futile effort to keep himself grounded and ready by the way Noctis was breathing. Too long, too shaky.  
He shifted and let their shoulders brush together, only so he could make out where his hand had to be located. Ignis found it, guided by the gleaming magic of the ring. Wordlessly they interlaced just as much as their pinky fingers, a silent promise, ‘stand by me’.

The clicking of shoes echoed back from marble walls in a familiar fashion. Long gone was the scarlet coloured carpet on the shiny black stone and rubble crunched under their feet as the two men took their steps up to the throne.  
Noctis gently slid his finger out of the pinky-hold, guiding Ignis’ hand to the armrest on the right with his full palm instead.

It felt hard and cold and the metal straps adorning the marble seemed to be able to slice through skin.

“I’m home”, Noctis breathed. “I walked tall. And even though it took me a while... I’m ready now.”

Ignis bit down on his lower lip, trying to seal away the screams that were clawing their way up his throat and the tears that had been stinging in his sightless eye for far too long. This was something between father and son, between Noctis and the former King.

A dull thud to his left signaled him that Noctis had taken his rightful place, the place he had been entitled to and burdened with. The last King in the line of Lucis, the Chosen King.  
Then a hand was cupping his, warm and gentle yet surrounded by deathly magic burning brightly.

“I love you Ignis.”  
Noctis’ voice had grown hollow and stripped of any decorum.  
“The time we had together, I cherish.”  
His hand tightened around Ignis’, a wordless plea that conveyed so much more than what could ever be said.  
“Don’t let go”, Noctis whispered.

Ignis gently freed his hand from the grip and placed it over Noctis’ in return. He could sense the angry pulse of magic sweltering through the fabric of his glove.

“Never”, Ignis returned wholeheartedly, straightening out his back for whatever would come. He would not fail Noctis again.

The room started buzzing with energy, strings of silver illuminating the black canvas of Ignis’ sight. He knew what it meant to wield the power of Kings. His heart sank at the thought.

“Kings of Lucis, come to me!”, Noctis bellowed into the empty room, sending fragments of his voice back in cacophony.  
The buzzing of magic increased to a nauseating level when the first spectre of the Kings of Yore pierced the chest of the Chosen. Ignis felt the power of the Lucii flare up below his palm, sending burning rage of white through his veins, trying to rip his body apart. It was but a remnant of the anguish of a not too distant past when he himself had tried on the ring to spare Noctis, willingly bleeding and sacrificing himself to the Gods and the Lucii. In vain.

Noctis let out an agonised groan, trying hard not to scream and to endure what had to be endured. Ignis clasped his hand tighter, panting at the mere fraction of the force that must have rattled Noctis’ body when the Founder King had joined with him.  
Counting the Royal Arms they had gathered on the journey meant that there were still twelve to come.

Beside him Noctis was bracing himself for the next blow and the ones that would be following.  
“Do... not be afraid to... share the load”, Ignis gasped, interlacing their fingers.

He would never let Noctis carry his burden alone anymore. He would never leave his side again, never forsake him and never let him down.  
He would never－


End file.
